A boy steps outside—maybe sixteen or seventeen. He has some muscle on his body, but he’s tall and thin, with shaggy hair and a sharp, guarded expression that softens the moment he sees his sister.
“Jack.” Kate’s whole face shifts, her voice warmer, lighter. Her brother hugs her, and his eyes land on me.
Jack grins, “Hi.”
I can read his face. It says: Finn Callahan—the hockey guy.
“This is Finn,” she says, a little stiff. “Finn, my brother Jack.”
I offer my hand again. Jack takes it. He has a tight grip, and it’s respectful.
“I started to watch old hockey games,” he mutters, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “How do you guys look this year?”
Kate’s eyes widen, caught off guard, but I grin.
“Depends if we can stay healthy,” I answer, the weight in my chest easing just a little. “You following the team?”
Jack shrugs, but there’s a spark in his eyes. “I started watching last season. Been counting down to opening night.”
“Well,” I say, relaxing into the moment, “we’ll see if we can give you something to cheer for. You’ll have to come visit us. I’ll buy you tickets to a game.”
Jack actually smiles, and just like that, the mood shifts.
Kate watches us, stunned, while I ask Jack about his favorite players, and he throws stats at me like he’s been waiting his whole life for this conversation.
Even Mamma watches with a glint of reluctant amusement, though she doesn’t stop smoking.
I know this isn’t easy for Kate. I can feel it in the way she fidgets; hell, she’s uncomfortable in her own home.
Later that night, I take them all out to dinner.
It’s nothing fancy—this town doesn’t have anything close to fancy—but there’s a steakhouse on the edge of Main Street, one of those places where everyone knows everyone, and the portions are big enough to shut people up for a while.
Kate’s stiff at first, arms crossed tight as we sit down. Her mammaorders the most expensive thing on the menu without blinking, and Jack’s too busy scanning the room to notice anything else.
I don’t intrude on their lives by asking them a multitude of questions. I keep the conversation easy, letting Jack lead. He’s young, but sharp—and once I get him talking about hockey again, the kid lights up like Christmas.
I ask him about school, about his favorite players, about his fantasy hockey picks—he’s surprisingly opinionated for sixteen.
When the plates are cleared, and Mamma’s halfway through her third glass of cheap wine, I turn to Jack, casually, but with intent.
“You know,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “camp starts soon. Pre-season workouts and scrimmages. You should come up for a weekend before school starts.”
Jack’s eyes go wide, and Kate freezes, the fork halfway to her mouth.
“I could show you around the rink,” I add, keeping it low-key, but it would be nice to have him see where his sister lives. It would also give us a chance to get to know each other better. “I’ll introduce you to some of the guys.”
I can’t take him to the locker room, even during the season. The NHL has strict rules regarding this due to liability concerns. I don’t know if they think we’ll be playing with our dicks or what, but yeah, it’s all buttoned up like a presidential secret.
Jack’s face lights up, and then he stares at me, stunned. It’s as if no one has ever done anything nice for him before. And perhaps no one has.
“You serious?” Jack asks, his voice cracking slightly in disbelief.
I grin. “Yeah. It would be nice to have you around.”
Kate’s eyes flick to me, something soft creeping into her expression for the first time all night.
She doesn’t say anything right away—but I see the moment she starts to relax. Her shoulders loosen. She stops twisting the napkin in her lap. She looks at me like maybe—just maybe—I’m not the enemy here.
